


Need

by Zoe1078



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 07:49:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6109990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoe1078/pseuds/Zoe1078
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little Jamie x Claire ficlet set within DIA, inspired by a particular gif, linked in the story. NOW UPDATED with chapter 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
  


He had been staring at her all night, just like every other man in the room. She wore a fine silk gown of rich brown and bright gold, and her hair was swept up, baring her long, slim neck. Her smile was wide, and her eyes sparkled, but both were aimed at another man. Jamie wanted to strangle the fellow, whoever he was. In fact, he wanted everyone in the room to disappear except the two of them. Instead he traded meaningless quips with aristocrats and made hollow promises to rich men, all the while seething with anger as he watched them undress his wife with their eyes. He flattered their wives to curry their favor. It was becoming physically painful, but for the sake of their mission, he feigned interest in the noblewomen’s silly stories, laughed at their vapid tales, and prayed for the night to end. But until the Prince departed, the party would go on. 

Claire had a circle of admirers around her, all jostling with each other to offer her another glass of fine wine or induce her to play cards. Her tongue was freed by the Bordeaux, and her sharp wit had the men roaring with laughter. Likewise, the alcohol rendered her movements loose and sensual. The men leaned closer to the pink flush rising up her bosom, to her whiskey eyes, to her plush lips, to her opalescent skin. Jamie wanted to tear them all off her, one by one, with his bare hands. Then he wanted to carry her into one of the curtained alcoves and remind her to whom she belonged. 

The moment the Prince left the party, Jamie turned away from the plump young Countess who was trying to keep his interest. He placed his glass on a tray, shouldered his way between a Baron and a Vicomte who were hovering over Claire, and slid his hand around to the nape of the neck. As her mouth dropped open in surprise, he ran his thumb along her bottom lip and told her it was time to leave. Walking backward, he pulled her out of the room. Without taking his eyes from hers, he demanded her cloak from a nearby manservant. 

“What’s going on, Jamie?”

With clenched jaw, he told her, “‘Tis as I said. It’s time to leave.”

“Did something happen?" 

"Not yet.” But if they stayed, surely he would do something he would regret. “I didna care for the way they were looking at ye, none of them.”

She glanced back at the men behind them. “They’re a pair of dandies, but I was in the middle of a conversation. The Vicomte was quite enlightening. Apparently his cousin is a member of King James’ court…”

“I dinna care, Sassenach. Not now.”

Her brow furrowed. “But that’s why we’re here! To gather information. And that man had information.”

“Later.” The manservant handed him the cloak, which her wrapped around her shoulders. He was grateful to finally have something with which to cover her. She was his to look at, and look at her he would, when they were alone. “I need ye, Claire.”

The rough texture of his voice subdued any protest she had, and she blushed brightly. “Oh, I see.” And she did.

He wasn’t certain he could make it all the way back to their apartments. The ride was at least half an hour, more if there was any delay. He had been aching for her for hours, and now that he had his hands on her skin, he didn’t think he could wait another minute. He would have her in the coach.

When it arrived, he boosted her into the cab, his hands so tight around her waist that he actually made it difficult for her to get in. He followed eagerly and was about to shut the door behind them when he heard a loud, “Attendez!” behind him. It was Madam Durand, a friendly woman of middle age who lived only three minutes walk from their home. Her own coach had broken its wheel moments ago when she tried to depart, and she happily climbed into theirs, saying how grateful she was that they would take her home. He clamped his mouth shut to avoid blurting out that he had made no such offer.

Jamie didn’t speak for the duration of the forty minute ride. He simply clenched his fists in his lap, clamped his mouth shut, and glared out the window. Claire compensated nicely, making pleasant and humorous conversation the entire time. She had administered licorice root to Madam Durand’s youngest daughter during a recent coughing illness, and as such had become fond of the family.

Claire kept talking even after Madam Durand waved them goodbye, recalling a silly tale about the little girl. He watched her closely, mesmerized by the fluttering of her hands and watching the movement of her mouth. He didn’t hear a word of what she said. When they entered their apartment, she sat on the floor and removed her shoes with a blissful sigh. “Mmmm. Feels lovely to take those off.”

Unable to bear the space between them, he lowered himself into the narrow space between her and the settee. Every nerve in his body burned with the need to touch her, so he wrapped his arm around her narrow waist, wishing the clothing under his hand would simply disappear. He leaned into her and felt the tickle of her hair on his cheek. It wasn’t nearly enough, so he strained his hips into the layers of her skirt and jerked her firmly against his chest. He whispered, “Do ye remember what I told ye? I need ye, Claire. And I will have ye.”

Jamie simply could not breathe from the wanting of her. He descended on her mouth, lips parted, and stole the air from her lungs.


	2. Chapter 2

This one’s from Claire’s point of view, and it picks up right where the first one left off. It’s, um, rather explicit, so if that’s not your thing, turn back now. Inspired by this photo:

  


  


  


  
He tasted like wine and passion. His kisses were possessive, his lips forced mine open, and his tongue swept inside my mouth. Just when I became lightheaded from lack of oxygen, he bit gently at my lower lip and begin to kiss his way along my jaw. His arm stayed tight around me, clutching me close, and his hand slid up to the top of my bodice. He pulled at it, trying to free my breasts, but the fabric would not stretch. A frustrated little growl vibrated from his throat. Rather than deal with the arduous task of undressing me, he brought his other hand down to ruck up my skirts and part my thighs. I tried to twist around to straddle him, reaching for the hem of his shirt to pull it up and off him.  
  
"No, _mo nighean donn_ ." He firmly turned me away and held me in place. "I feel as if I might burst at any second, for I have wanted ye so badly through this long night. If you touch me, this will not last. And I want it to last. I want to feel you coming apart under my touch before I take ye."  
  
I melted into him then, giving myself over to the sensations he drew from my body. First, he used just the tip of one finger to tease me, barely grazing against my skin. I squirmed, trying to get closer to the fleeting touch, but he held me fast. He drew tantalizing patterns on my skin but would do no more. Soon he had me panting in desperation. "Please," was all I could manage.  
  
"Aye.” I could hear the smile in his voice. The sensation of his breath sent shivers across my neck. "Now ye know. Now ye know what I have been feelin' all night. Just like this, so close, but no satisfaction. My body's been cryin’ out for yours."  
  
I didn't want to wait. I didn't want him to wait. "Then have me! Then have me now!" I tried to turn again, but again, he would not let me. So I pushed my hips back, pressing against him. Yet my voluminous skirts were in the way. I wanted to feel the evidence of his desire against my spine, but there was too much fabric. "Let me take this off."  
  
I could feel him shaking his head behind me. "No. I will undress you when I am ready. First, this way. Do ye know what I wanted to do tonight? I wanted to pull you behind one of the curtains and pull yer skirt up, just like this. I wanted to kiss you.” He tilted my head back with one finger and pressed his demanding mouth against mine. I fell headlong into the kiss, but he pulled away far too soon, saying, “I wanted to put my hands on ye. I wanted to touch you. And then, with all those men standing just a few feet away, wantin' ye, I wanted to do this." He began to touch me in earnest, no longer using the feather's touch as before, but bold, masterful strokes. Jamie played me like an instrument. He made me tremble in his arms, arch and undulate against him, and sing a mantra of his name. He teased me mercilessly, repeatedly bringing me just to the edge, then backing away. I wanted to feel him inside me, his fingers, his sex, anything, but he steadfastly avoided it. Instead, he told me how I looked, wanton and wild. He described the lines of my body, the color in my cheeks, the shape of my mouth, the way my breasts were trapped in my bodice. All the while, he whispered his lust to me. He systematically narrowed my world down to his hands on my skin and his words in my ear, and he reduced me to futile squirms and incoherent moans.  

And then he stopped. 

I begged for mercy, for release, but he gave me none. Instead he removed his hand from my skirts and began to pull the pins from my hair, releasing my curls into riot. I wanted to scream in frustration. Instead I demanded to know, with an embarrassing edge of desperation, what he was doing.  
  
"Whatever I want.” He stood and reached out his hand, helping me up. Then he looked me up and down. He was completely still, but for a muscle jumping in his jaw where he clenched his teeth, and his fists, which trembled ever so slightly at his sides. He was all power and need, and barely contained. Raw. And all his focus was on me. “For you are mine, _mo nighean donn_ , to do with what I will. And before I take ye, I want you wild, as wild as I feel. Come."  
  
He led me into the bedchamber, lit a fire in the hearth, and stood at the foot of the bed. But when I tried to sit and draw him down beside me, he gestured for me to stand in the middle out of the room. His voice was rough with lust. "Take off your clothes."  
  
After issuing his order, Jamie said nothing else. He simply stared at me. My hands shook as I undressed, burning under his gaze.  One by one I removed each layer and dropped them in a heap on the floor, until I stood nude before him. He slowly licked his lips, eyes raking up and down my form. Yet he made no further movement. My skin prickled with heat, due entirely to his stare, for the fire had not yet warmed the room.  
  
After an interminable pause, he said in a clipped tone, "Now mine."  
  
So much adrenaline was coursing through my body that I could hardly control my own movements. I managed to tug off his boots and pull off his shirt, but I struggled with a knot on his breeks. He didn't help me at all, only stared at me intently, though when I finally succeeded, he lifted each foot to step out of them. I reached for him, but he stopped me again, despite his glaringly obvious arousal. "Not yet. Fold up my clothes, and put them on the chair."  
  
I was stunned. He'd said he had wanted me all night. He’d made me want him just as badly. Why wasn't he taking me? I wondered this as I obeyed his instructions, but it never occurred to me to argue. Something in his tone stopped me, and the knowledge that he would not leave me unsatisfied. I did as he said and crossed to the other side of the room, bending over to place his clothes on the plush armchair that sat next to the fireplace.

“Stay where ye are, just like that.” It was barely a whisper, but I didn’t dare disobey.

I froze, and I understood what he had done. He was directly behind me, and in this position, I was completely exposed. I could feel his eyes on me, staring at the most vulnerable part of my body, which was swollen and aching for him. As I heard his breathing deepen, I braced my hands on the arms of the chair, straightened my knees to keep them from shaking, and waited. It was one of the most erotic experiences of my life, and he wasn’t even touching me. 

After the space of several heartbeats, I heard him approach and hoped he would take me right there. I was more than ready. But he didn’t. I couldn’t breathe. Still, I waited. I said nothing. I didn’t turn around. I waited. And I waited. Eventually I felt the heat of his hand, but he didn't quite touch me. His open hand hovered over my back. I could feel the heat radiating off his palm, and electricity crackled between his skin and mine. But our flesh did not meet. In this manner, he traced a path down my spine, around my hips, over my buttocks, down my thighs. He let out a long breath, almost a sigh, and I realized I had stopped breathing some time ago. I needed Jamie more than I needed air.

Gently, he placed his large, hot hands on my buttocks, and he spread me open. My heart pounded in my chest as I waited for him. Surely now he would enter me? Surely he would fill the hollow space inside me? I wanted to beg for it, but somehow I knew he would only pull away. I held my breath.

Then finally, finally, I felt him. But it wasn’t his cock, or even a finger. His dextrous tongue dipped into me, just once, and he groaned as he lapped me up. I whimpered and pressed myself back against him, but then he was gone.

I could stand it no longer. I whirled round and flung myself at him. He caught me, tossed me onto the bed, and pounced on me. I immediately wrapped myself around him, trying to get him closer. Trying to bring him home. But he grabbed my wrists in his hands and pinned me to the bed, and he lifted his hips away from mine. I writhed under him to no avail. “Now ye know. This, this is how I feel. The want, _mo chridhe_. The need. ‘Tis deep in my bones, in my soul. Not only tonight, not only when we are abed, not only when ye touch me. I want you always. Every moment that I am not with ye, every time I look upon ye, in every dream I have. ‘Tis always the same, the need. And then, even when I lose myself inside ye, when you take me into your body, I must somehow come even closer, deeper. I want to be one wi’ ye, Claire. Always.”

Jamie had broken my heart apart with his words and filled it to bursting so that it cracked open and overflowed. While he spoke, I stilled, taking in his love, letting it wash over and through me. I wish I knew what to say, that I possessed his gift of eloquence, but I did not. All I could do was say his name, which to me, meant love itself. “Jamie. Oh, Jamie.” He loosened his grip on my wrists, and I reached for him. I took his hand and placed his palm on my belly, which had begun to swell with our child. “You are, my love. We are. We are one.”

A smile broke across his face, and it was like the sun. His breath left him in a happy sob, and I leaned up to kiss him. Need was there, boundless need, but endless joy as well. I cupped his face in my hands while he drew my leg over his hip. And when he finally entered me, I saw eternity in his fathomless blue eyes.

Jamie was uncharacteristically wordless as he moved inside me. Yet he told me exactly what he needed of me, everything I was to him, with his hands, his lips, his body. As momentum built, his eyes bored into mine. I resisted the instinct to close my own, unwilling to break any connection between us, even for a second. He gave me bliss. He gave me love. He gave me himself, and I, in turn, gave him my soul.

We came together over and over, moved by gravity, doing everything we could to merge. I didn't know where I ended and he began. I drew him to me as the moon pulls the tides, and he swept over me like waves on the shore. I never, ever wanted him to leave. But each time he joined with me, still he had to pull away. He had to submit to the primal rhythm of the earth, of the animal. He had to obey, and so did I. I mourned the loss for a millisecond every time his hips shifted away, but every time, he returned to me. Again, and again, and again.

I held tightly to him, and he to me. Pulsing heat started deep inside me and radiated outward in encompassing waves. I called out to Jamie. I tried to tell him, but I had no words. All that was left to me was pure sensation and rapturous love. Then the wide, great universe opened at the center of our pleasure, and together, we were overcome.

 


End file.
